


The Wolf Kings

by The_Jade_Samurai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jon and Robb are twins, Jon is Ned and Cat's son, Kings in the North, Sansa is an Arryn, sansa is not a Stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 05:50:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12125907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jade_Samurai/pseuds/The_Jade_Samurai
Summary: When Ned Stark and Catelyn are married during Robert's Rebellion, Catelyn gives birth to twins, Robb and Jon Stark. When the War of the Five Kings begins twenty years later, Jon must find a way to convince the Vale to side with his twin brother the King in the North, even if that means marrying his cousin, the beautiful Sansa Arryn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I have so many stories now it's hard to keep up with them all but I really wanted to crank this one out because I thought it would be interesting.
> 
> As you can see by the tags (hopefully you've read them), Jon is a true born Stark to Ned and Catelyn and the twin brother of Robb, while Sansa is Lysa Tully's daughter. 
> 
> Because of how strange this is I'm not willing to bet that loads of people will read this but oh well, I like this idea!

Year 283AC...

The castle of Riverrun’s halls echoed with the screams of a woman, a stark contrast to the peaceful, moonlit sky above the Riverlands. While her husband was off in search of his sister, Catelyn Stark lay in her bed, clutching her nursemaid’s hand tightly while Maester Luwin stood crouched between her parted legs.

_Gods Eddard, why did you have to go now?_ thought Catelyn before she was nearly overcome by another wave of pain in her hips.

“Just a little more my lady,” encouraged Maester Luwin. “I can see the head.”

“One more push,” said the nursemaid. “Then your child will be born into the world.”

Catelyn took a few deep breaths before pushing as hard as she could, screaming from the sheer agony of childbirth. Her visioned blurred for a moment, but she became aware when she heard the wail of a babe.

“It’s a boy, my lady,” said the maester. Catelyn stretched forth her arms to hold her son before suddenly another wave of pain washed over her like a storm. “There’s another coming!” said Maester Luwin urgently, and Catelyn could see him hand off a bundle of cloth, with a tuft of red hair at the top to another nursemaid before preparing himself for the next babe.

_Another child? Gods Eddard, when you return I am going to kill you for putting me through this_ , thought Catelyn.

The second child only took fifteen minutes to come into the world, but by the end of it Catelyn was beyond exhausted. She struggled to keep her eyes open for as long as she could.

“Another son,” said the maester.

“Let me see them,” she said tiredly, desperate to see her two boys. The nursemaid put the red-haired babe in her right arm, while the other was tucked into her left. “Robb,” she said, looking at her oldest son, a small tuft of reddish-brown hair and blue eyes just like his mother. The other babe was quiet, but he had a mop of brown hair so dark it was almost black and grey eyes just like Eddard. “Jon,” she said, naming her second son. They were twins, yet they were as different as day was to night.

Within a few days after giving birth, it was apparent that this comparison was true. Robb was loud, whether it was because he was crying or because he simply wanted attention. Jon, on the other hand, was quiet, rarely making a sound, even when he was hungry. Catelyn loved both of her boys equally and refused a wet nurse, preferring to feed them at her own breast.

Catelyn and her two babes eventually travelled to Winterfell from Riverrun, which was relatively easy seeing as it had only recently turned to spring, and the snow had all but melted away. It was the first time that Catelyn had ever seen a summer snowfall, and she supposed that she would have to get used to the cold, Northern weather.

Her husband, Lord Eddard Stark was the first to greet them when Catelyn’s carriage and guards rode into the main courtyard of Winterfell. Catelyn looked around for a moment, taking in the cold, dark grey stone walls and towers of Winterfell before greeting her husband.

“My lady,” said Eddard with a small smile by way of greeting his wife. His eyes drifted downwards to rest on the two bundles in her arms, and his expression changed. “Are those...?”

“Your two sons,” answered Catelyn, “Robb and Jon.”

“May I...?” Eddard’s voice trailed off, a questioningly look in his eyes.

Catelyn smiled and handed Robb over to his father, and Eddard’s face shifted to one of wonder and joy at holding his eldest son. “Which one is the eldest?” asked Eddard.

“Robb, by fifteen minutes, my lord,” said Catelyn.

“He will be my heir then,” said Eddard. “But Jon shall be at his side always. May I see him?”

Catelyn shifted Jon in her arms so that Eddard could see better, and the Lord of Winterfell sucked in a deep breath at the sight of their youngest staring up at them curiously with those wide, grey eyes of his.

“He looks like Lyanna,” whispered Eddard, tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he continued, looking back up at Catelyn. “For taking care of our children in my absence.”

“Of course my lord,” said Catelyn.

“Ned,” corrected her husband, a small smile playing on his lips as his eyes bore into hers. “You may call me Ned.”

“Ned,” repeated Catelyn, testing the name on her tongue thoughtfully. “I like it.”

Two years after Robb and Jon’s birth, the Starks receive word that Catelyn’s younger sister Lysa Arryn had given birth to a baby girl named Sansa, who was said to resemble her aunt in the North. Another two years after that came Arya, who had the Stark look just like her older brother, though the next two children, Bran and Rickon inherited the Tully look. From Ned and Catelyn’s marriage, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell eventually fell in love and ruled the North as equals.

Several years after Robert's victory at the Trident, Ned went off to war again when the Greyjoys rebelled against the Crown, but returned unharmed and with Balon Greyjoy’s only surviving son Theon as his ward/hostage. The North soon became secluded from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms after that, away from the poison of Southern politics. When Ned and Cat thought peace was finally achieved, there came a deserter of the Night’s Watch, and thus the tale of the Stark twins begins...


	2. Chapter 2

“What is it?” asked Theon, still riding atop of his horse.

“A dead stag,” answered Jon, crouched down over the fresh corpse of the animal. Its entrails were hanging from its open stomach, and the smell was unpleasant, but Jon ignored it as he investigated the dead thing. Robb pulled his horse up next to Jon’s before jumping off and joining his twin brother on the ground, but he did not even bother to hide his distaste at the smell.

“It’s missing an antler,” he pointed out. “There’s a trail of blood leading into the trees as well.”

“Should we follow it?” suggested Jon, and at Robb’s answering smirk, the two brothers stood up and followed the blood trail, much to the protests of Father and the others. Jory Cassel was the first to catch up to them with his sword drawn, giving the two lordlings a disapproving glare before taking the lead. Father, Bran, Theon and Ser Rodrik Cassel caught up with them as well, and the small group continued to follow the trail down to a stream.

“What in Seven Hells,” swore Jory, and Jon peered over his shoulder to get a better look.

It was a wolf, larger than any other Jon had ever seen in his life, with grey fur like smoke. It was also dead, judging by how still it was and the antler sticking out of its neck, covered in blood and gore. Six pups were suckling on the dead wolf’s teats, long since dried out from the pups appetites.

“It’s a monster!” exclaimed Theon.

“It’s a direwolf,” corrected Father, crouching down next to the wolf and removing the antler from its body. “They haven’t been seen south of the Wall in nearly two hundred years.”

“Here, do you want a hold?” asked Jon, picking up a light brown pup and handing it to Bran. The Old Gods knew that his younger brother could do with a bit of cheering up after witnessing his first execution.

“They won’t survive long down here without their mother,” said Ser Rodrik.

“Aye. Better a quick death for them,” agreed Father, and he stood up to return to their horses.

“Father no!” shouted Bran, clutching the wolf he held closer to his chest as Theon reached for it, dagger drawn and at the ready.

“It’s for the best Bran, I’m sorry,” said Father.

“Father,” said Jon. “There are six pups here, one for each of the Stark children plus one more. The direwolf is the sigil of our house, we were meant to have them.”

It seemed as though everyone held their breath while waiting for Father’s answer. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he finally nodded his head in agreement.

“You will feed them yourselves, train them yourselves, and if they die,” Father paused for a moment, “you will bury them yourselves.”

Jon, Robb and Bran all sighed in relief before Jon grabbed two more pups, a smokey grey one with gold eyes and a lighter grey one with gold eyes and handed them to Robb, then handed a black one with green eyes to Theon. The last two, a light grey one with a silver streak running along its spine with yellow eyes and a pure white-furred pup with hellish red eyes, were picked up by Jon. He felt an instant connection with the white one, which didn’t make a sound and was smaller than its siblings, while the grey one whined pitifully as it snuggled against Jon’s chest. Jon instantly knew that the white one was to be his, yet he felt that the other one he held belonged to him as well.

When the group returned to Winterfell, Jon quickly jumped off his horse, still carrying the two wolf pups and headed over to his mother, who was watching them from atop a balcony overlooking the courtyard. He ran up the steps two at a time, and when he got closer to his mother, he put the direwolf pups on the ground at his feet and embraced her tenderly.

“What have we here?” said Mother, looking down at the two pups as they chased each other between Jon and Mother’s legs.

“We found them in the Wolfswood after the execution. Their mother was killed so we decided to bring them home with us,” answered Jon just as they heard a squeal of delight. Jon and Mother both saw Arya and little Rickon running over to Robb and Theon, and Mother groaned.

“One for each of you?” she asked sternly, and Jon blushed in embarrassment.

“Plus one more,” said Jon.

“Do you not think it dangerous to be keeping direwolves as pets?” said Mother.

Jon shrugged. “Not really. We’re Starks, the blood of the wolf runs in our veins,” he said. “Father has already set the rules for us, which hopefully Robb will remember to repeat to Arya and Rickon.”

“Be careful my son,” said Mother worriedly, and she placed a hand on Jon’s cheek, which he leant into. While Catelyn loved all of her children equally, she always had a special place in her heart for Jon. Why that was, she could not say. Maybe it was because he was the only son of hers to have the Stark look, maybe it was because he was the kindest of her five children, or that he was the most protective of his mother, or maybe it was because the Gods had something special planned for him which she could sense, she did not know.

“I’ll try to be, Mother,” said Jon, and he kissed her palm before heading back down to the courtyard for training. He passed by Father and nodded in greeting, the two wolf pups following closely behind him.

“Have you named your wolf yet?” asked Robb when Jon came closer.

“Which one?” joked Jon, and Robb laughed. “I am not sure yet. The white one has not made a noise since I found him, and the other seems very gentle for a wolf.”

“I’ve already named mine,” said Robb. “Grey Wind.”

“Grey Wind?” repeated Jon, raising an eyebrow.

Robb frowned. “You do not like it? I named him that because he runs around a lot and is very fast.”

“That is not the thing that comes to mind when I hear Grey Wind,” said Jon with a smirk on his face.

Robb scowled and punched Jon in the arm hard, making the dark-haired twin yelp in surprise.

* * *

Jon noticed the tense atmosphere between Mother and Father at dinner that night, and he wondered what had happened to create such an icy tension. Robb and Arya could sense it too, their eyes darting from one parent to the other in confusion. Their thoughts were answered when Father stood up, earning the attention of his five children. 

“I have received a raven today,” he said solemnly, and Jo could tell that what Father was about to say would not be good news. “The King and his family are coming to Winterfell.”

Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon began chatting away excitedly about the news, but Jon remained as silent as his wolf, staring at his father. 

“When will they arrive?” asked Robb. 

“Within the turn of the moon,” answered Father. “So we must prepare as soon as possible for their arrival.” 

“We have reason to believe that King Robert will be offering your father the position of Hand to the King,” said Mother.

“What about Jon Arryn?” asked Jon, and he saw how both his parents’ faces darkened. 

“Lord Arryn has passed away,” said Father. “So it stands to reason that King Robert would only travel all this way to name me his Hand.” 

“Couldn’t he just offer you that through a raven? Why bring his entire family all this way North?” said Jon. Father and Mother shared a look. 

“We think the King might be offering more than a position at court,” said Mother at last.

_A betrothal_ , thought Jon to himself. It would have been the only other reason he could think of.

“We must prepare regardless,” said Father, and no more was said on the matter that night. 

* * *

Jon scratched at his face in annoyance, not used to being completely clean-shaven as he stood between Robb and Arya in Winterfell’s courtyard. He shared a snicker with Arya when Prince Joffrey rode in on his white horse looking like an arrogant ponce, but stopped when Mother gave them a look. 

He could not help but feel disappointed at the sight of King Robert Baratheon, who looked nothing like the formidable Demon of the Trident Father had told them stories of. Instead, the clothes he wore looked strained under his immense weight as he slid off his horse with a loud thud. He was sweating and red-faced by the time he waddled over to greet the Starks, and Jon had to nudge Arya in the ribs to get her to stop laughing. 

Later that day, when Jon found out that Ned was considering a betrothal between Arya and Prince Joffrey, he and Robb burst out laughing at the thought of the golden-haired prince trying to tame their she-wolf of a sister. Arya was in too foul a mood to join in on the fun and threatened to castrate both Robb and Jon if they tried to tease her about it, and the two oldest Stark boys backed off, aware that their only sister was very good a keeping her promises. 

The welcoming feast that night was one of the more rowdy affairs that Jon had been to in his life. Feasts and parties were not his thing, instead preferring to stand in the corner while his parents and Robb entertained their guests. Tonight, however, it was expected that Jon be seen at all times so that he could make a good impression on their guests. Who he was meant to be entertaining was beyond Jon, it wasn’t like he was going to be marrying Myrcella Baratheon anytime soon. 

* * *

It was late that same night, after the feast had entered when Jon knocked on his father’s bed chamber door. To his surprise, the door swung open and Father greeted him with a confused and slightly worried look. 

“What is it Jon?” asked Father, stepping aside to allow Jon inside. Jon spotted Mother laying on their bed, and he instantly regretted his decision. 

“I wanted to talk to you of my future,” said Jon, moving over to stand by the hearth, its fire still alive.

“Your future?” said Mother in confusion. 

“If you are worried about us not finding you a wife yet, we have received several offers of marriage from Northern lords for you and Robb both,” said Father placatingly. 

“I’m not worried about that. I actually wanted to talk to you about joining the Night’s Watch,” said Jon curtly. 

Both Mother and Father froze where they were, their eyes widening in shock. 

“What brought about this decision?” said Father in surprise. 

“I was talking to Uncle Benjen at the feast. He said that the Night’s Watch could use a man like me,” replied Jon.

“Why do you want to join the Night’s Watch Jon?” asked Mother, patting the side of the bed as an invitation for Jon to sit down. He sat down on the offered spot and Mother sat up and began to run her long fingers through his dark curls, while Father sat down on his other side.

“I do not feel like I will be of much use here soon,” admitted Jon. “You will be going South to be King Robert’s Hand, Robb will become Lord of Winterfell, Arya will probably be married to the Prince soon. Where does that leave me? I am of no use here anymore.” 

“Jon,” said Father sternly. “Do not think for a second that you are unwanted here. You are loved and needed in Winterfell.” 

“Robb will need you when your Father goes South,” said Mother, “you will be his closest advisor. He may even give you a castle of your own in the future, and you will raise a family and become his bannerman.” 

“Bran and Rickon will need someone to look after them as well,” said Father. “Robb and Mother will be too busy running Winterfell, though I expect you to help in that regard as well.” 

“But the Night’s Watch-” began Jon. 

“The Night’s Watch is not the honorable brotherhood it used to be,” interrupted Father. “It is filled with rapists and murderers sent to live the rest of their miserable lives out. Uncle Benjen is a rare exception to that.”

Jon did not speak for a moment while, while Mother ran her fingers long his back soothingly.

“You’re right,” said Jon finally. “I realise now that I am needed here. I’m sorry for acting so selfish.” 

“Oh my son,” said Mother. “It is alright to think like this every now and again. But we will never love you any less.”

Jon said nothing, instead letting himself be enveloped in his parents arms.

* * *

 

_ Bran falls from the Tower _

_ Ned and Arya go South _

_ Jon and Robb reign in Winterfell Ned is arrested  _

_ Robb calls the banners _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may seem a little rushed but I wanted to establish a few relationships before we get into the juicy stuff. 
> 
> Next chapter the War of Five Kings begins...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War of the Five Kings begins, the Stark twins receive new weapons, and a plan is hatched...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise but Sansa will not be in this chapter, but she is mentioned.

“The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover!” scoffed the Greatjon Umber. He leant forward then, his beady black eyes boring into Robb and Jon both. “I will lead the van, or I will take my men and march them home.”

The hall quietened then, most of the men gathered looking between the Greatjon and Robb, waiting for a reaction from their liege lord.

“You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber,” said Robb slowly, then he stood up. “And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep and hang you for an oathbreaker.”

“Oathbreaker, is it?!” roared the Greatjon, standing up and knocking his goblet aside. Several other lords stood up as well, while Jon’s hand went down to rest on the pommel of his sword. “I’ll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!” Lord Umber reached for his sword then, but did not get the chance to draw it, for Grey Wind leapt on the table and pounced on the Lord of Last Hearth, snarling.

There was a scream of pain, and the sound of flesh tearing before Grey Wind jumped off the Greatjon and walked away, his muzzle covered in blood. Beside Jon, Ghost and Silver, his second wolf were baring their fangs at the fallen lord, who was still gasping in pain.

“My lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord,” said Robb in a deathly calm voice. He paused then to wait for the Greatjon to get up from where he had fallen to the ground. “But doubtless the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me.”

“Your meat...” growled Lord Umber, then he looked around the hall to see the rest of the lords waiting for his reaction. He looked down at his mangled hand, where two of his fingers had disappeared, leaving nothing but bloodied stumps. “Is bloody tough,” he finished in a lighter voice, then started to laugh a booming chortle and show off his mangled hand.

The other lords, including Robb started to join in on the Greatjon’s laughter, though Jon and Bran remained quiet. It was good to see Robb earning the respect of men decades older than him, and hopefully it would instill a fierce loyalty in his men.

“Mother wouldn’t exactly approve of the way you handled things back there,” said Jon later on that night.

“Mother isn’t here, is she Jon?” retorted Robb, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Good point,” laughed Jon.

* * *

“Mother!” shouted Jon, and he whipped the reins of his horse to set it sprinting down the hill to greet Lady Catelyn and Ser Rodrik Cassel. 

The Stark army was camped along the riverbank near the Twins, and were currently awaiting for Robb’s signal to march over the bridge. Jon could see her smile as he came closer, and he slowed his horse to a stop and the bottom of the hill. 

“Jon,” said Mother lovingly, and Jon jumped off his horse to help her off hers. He pulled her in a tight embrace, where they remained until Robb joined them and they were forced to separate. 

“We must speak, urgently,” said Robb, the happy mood was suddenly forgotten. 

Back at the main tent, surrounded by the all the Northern lords who rode with the Starks, Robb gave them the news. 

“I have sent ravens to every House in the North and Riverlands who we think would be willing to join in our cause,” he began. “A great many have pledged themselves to us, but I fear that it is not enough. Our biggest issue,” Robb pointed on the map a picture of two towers with a bridge over a river, “is the Twins. Without Walder Frey’s help, we won’t be able to cross the river to get into the Westerlands.”

“Walder Frey is a proud man and unreliable. He will not help us unless he gets something out of it,” said Mother crossly.

“What do you think he will want?” asked Jon. 

Mother shrugged. “It could be anything, gold, an invitation to the next feast, it is difficult to say,” she said. “Most likely it will be a marriage contract, to secure more power for his House.”

Jon and Robb both shared nervous glances with each other.

“Who will have to parley with the Freys?” asked Robb.

“I will have to,” said Mother. 

“Absolutely not,” said Jon vehemently. 

“I have treated with Lord Walder before, I know how he works,” argued Mother.

“That was years ago. If what Uncle Edmure says is true, then Lord Walder has only gotten even more prickly, and likely more demanding,” protested Robb. 

“Send some of your lords with me then,” said Mother. “And some guards. Lord Walder will not touch me while I treat with him. Guest right demands it of him.” 

Jon and Robb shared another look, and at Robb’s nod, Jon stepped closer to Mother. 

“I will go with you,” he said. “He might be easier to negotiate with if one of Eddard Stark’s sons is there with you.”

Mother looked like she was about to protest, but she eventually sighed and relented. Shortly after, Jon, Mother and a retinue of guards gathered from all the Northern Houses marched over the Crossing to meet with Walder Frey. 

"How was the Vale?” asked Jon, deciding to make small talk while they marched. “I heard that you had take Tyrion Lannister there as a prisoner.” 

“It was fine, and capturing Lord Tyrion was a misunderstanding, despite my feeling towards their family at the moment,” said Mother. “It was good to see my sister again.” 

“How is she?” asked Jon.

“I...” Mother hesitated. “She has changed much since I last saw her,” she finally said.

Jon frowned, but did not say more. “What about my cousins Sansa and Robert? How are they?” he said instead. 

“Robin is sickly, but we always knew that. Lysa coddles him far too much,” said Mother, her voice starting to sound a little annoyed. 

“And Sansa?” 

Mother actually smiled. “She has grown into a fine young woman. She looks like a Tully through and through,” she said. “She does seem lonely, and a little shy though. But I suspect that has to do with Lysa’s lack of affection.” 

“Poor girl,” muttered Jon. “I take it Aunt Lysa did not call her banners?” 

“Did you see me arrive with an army?” retorted Mother.

“Of course not,” said Jon. “Forgive me.” 

“There is nothing to forgive,” said Mother fondly. 

Just then they were hailed by a Frey soldier and led into a courtyard, where Jon jumped off his horse before helping Mother off hers. The Northern party followed a steward into a hall, where many of Walder Frey's sons, grandsons, great-grandsons and bastards were seated. At the very end of the hall sat the withered form of Walder Frey on a wooden seat carved to resemble the Twins. He looked so sickly and old Jon suspected that he would drop dead at any minute, but there was probably a reason he was as old as he was. A woman who looked barely old enough to have flowered stood next Lord Walder with a terrified expression on her face. 

“Grandfather, Catelyn Stark and her second son, Jon,” announced the steward. 

Lord Walder let out a hacking cough and leaned forward on his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Stark?” sneered the Lord of the Crossing. 

“Lord Robb Stark begs permission to cross your bridge, so that he may take his armies West to meet the Lannisters,” declared Mother in a firm, loud voice.

Lord Walder let out a wheezing cackle in response. “The Lord of Winterfell begs permission to cross my bridge eh?” he said. 

Jon scowled at the man’s disrespect, but said nothing. 

“Tell me, Lady Stark. Where is your eldest son? Am I beneath his notice? Am I not of the same calibre he is?” accused Lord Walder. “I expected the Warden of the North himself to come treat with me, but instead he sends his mother and twin brother.” 

“Lord Robb sends his apologies, but he was forced to stay to organize his armies,” said Jon. 

“Bah! If he’s still trying to sort his soldiers out this far South, he must not be a very good commander,” sneered Lord Walder. Jon took a step forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword ready to defend his brother’s honour, but Mother grabbed the crook of his elbow and gave him a warning look. “Of co urse, I shall allow for Robb Stark and his armies to cross my bridge,” continued Lord Walder, ignoring Jon’s withering look, “but this is a toll bridge, and a toll must be paid.” 

Mother scowled. “What are your terms?” 

“A betrothal,” answered Lord Walder. “Between your eldest and my granddaughter Roslin.”

“I cannot agree to something like that so quickly, I must think of the continuation of my children’s line,” said Mother. “My second son Jon however...”

Jon glared at Mother the same time that Lord Walder said, “Your eldest or you don’t cross.” 

Mother looked torn for a moment, as she weighed her options in her head. The silence in the hall was almost deafening, and many gathered shuffled nervously where they stood while they waited for Mother’s decision. 

“Do you any other terms?” Mother said finally, and everyone seemed to let out a collective sigh, Jon included. He did not envy Robb in the slightest, if Walder Frey’s granddaughter looked anything like him.

“Harrenhal will be given to my family, and my grandson Olyvar will become Lord Robb’s squire, a knighthood included once the war is over,” rattled off Lord Walder.

Mother glanced at Jon, and he nodded his head.

“Those aren’t the worse terms,” he whispered to her.

“Very well,” said Mother, turning back to Lord Walder. “The North accepts these terms.” 

* * *

Robb did not have to say anything for Jon to know that he was displeased with Walder Frey’s terms, but at least he had gained three thousand Frey soldiers and a squire, as well permission to cross the Twins. 

As soon as the Stark army reached the other side of the Trident, Robb immediately made plans for war. A small force would split away to delay Tywin Lannister’s army while the main force would march straight to Riverrun, where Jaime Lannister was reportedly marching towards. Mother hung back at the back of main army, accompanied by Ser Rodrik, a number of loyal guards as well as Silver, while Jon, Robb led the main charge against Jaime Lannister. 

Jon sent out a small party of men disguised as scouts intended to draw out the Kingslayer’s forces outside of Riverrun to the Whispering Wood, which worked when they spotted an army clad in the crimson and gold armour of House Lannister coming their way. Half of the Northern forces gathered were sent under Lord Rickard Karstark’s command to flank the Lannister forces, and by the time the Kingslayer seemed to realise his folly, it was too late.

Wearing identical armour of boiled leather and steel, Jon and Robb rode at the very front of the cavalry, swords drawn and Grey Wind and Ghost running at their horses’ sides. Northern men rode next to them, bellowing their war cries for the Lannisters to hear.

The sound of clashing steel rang in Jon’s ears through his helm, but he remained focussed on what was ahead of him. He swung his sword gracefully, cutting through a Lannister soldier’s arm and severing it at the elbow before driving it through another’s skull. Jon barely got a chance to think about his first kill before he was forced to duck under a sword that would have surely taken his head, but before the soldier could swing again he was pulled off his horse by a white direwolf, screaming as Ghost tore his throat out. 

Beside Jon, Robb was swinging his sword from one side of his horse to the other, cutting down men with every stroke. Jon let out a cry and buried his sword in a Lannister knight’s shoulder, and when he yanked it out Jon’s armour was sprayed with blood, coating the dark brown leather and grey steel in red. His horse suddenly reared up when a Lannister man-at-arms shoved a lance through its chest, and Jon was thrown off, landing on his back and knocking his helm from his head. 

He felt the wind leave his body, and he started to panic. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move and felt helpless when the same Lannister soldier charged at him with his lance raised over his head to skewer Jon. Just as Jon reached for his sword, Grey Wind appeared out of nowhere and sank his teeth into the soldier’s arm before Ghost joined his brother and tore the poor man to pieces. Jon sucked in a deep breath, finally able to draw breath and grabbed his sword, then stood up and surveyed his surroundings. 

It was chaos, Northern and Lannister men alike all mixed together as they tried their best to kill each other. Jon spotted Robb a fair distance away still atop his horse and rallying men to him as he led the charge through the broken Lannister ranks. Jon grimaced and ducked an axe, then swung his sword sideways and sliced through his opponent’s stomach, spilling his entrails all over the thick mud mixed with blood and gore.

From the shouts of “Stark! Stark!”, Jon guessed that they were winning, so he pushed forward, rallying men to his side and he killed his way through the breaking Lannister forces. He spotted Harrion and Eddard Karstark running with him, and together the three lords fought their way through to where Jon had spotted the Kingslayer. They found him surrounded by numerous dead Northern soldiers, his sword covered in blood. Jon hesitated for a moment. Jaime Lannister was considered one of, if not the best swordsman alive in Westeros, and had no doubt that the dead Northerners at his feet were killed by him personally.

Unfortunately, neither of the Karstark boys seemed to think the same thing, and they charged head-on without a thought. Jon swore under his breath and ran to catch up, and the three lords engaged the Kingslayer. 

Despite being outnumbered three-to-one, the Kingslayer held them off easily. He looked almost bored as he parried their blows, and it was beginning to frustrate Jon. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jon was reminded of how his own father fought Ser Arthur Dayne and barely won despite his father having six other men fighting alongside him. Jon was kicked in the chest by Ser Jaime, and he landed on his back hard. 

Grunting in pain, Jon sat up slowly, just in time to watch the Kingslayer slice Eddard Karstark’s throat with his sword, and the second son of Lord Rickard drowned in his own blood. 

Jon bellowed in rage and stood up, but was forced backwards when Ser Jaime swung his sword upwards, and the very tip of his blade sliced up Jon’s left cheek and brow.

Blood flowed into his eye, stinging painfully and blinding him, but Jon could still see how Ser Jaime stabbed Harrion through the heart, killing the heir of Karhold. 

“I admit, you boys gave me a better fight than the rest of them,” said Ser Jaime over the deafening sound of battle. “But I have a duty to my King and House.” 

J on was barely able to get his sword up in time to block the Kingslayer’s blow, and it sent him staggering backwards. Jon parried a few more blows, even going on the offensive a few times, but Jon knew that he was hopelessly outmatched. 

To both of their surprises, Jon managed to stab Ser Jaime through the left shoulder, and Jon would not have believed it if it weren’t for hearing the Kingslayer’s hiss of pain and the fresh blood that dripped from his wound. The Kingslayer sent Jon a murderous look, but before he could react, Greatjon Umber appeared out of nowhere and tackled Ser Jaime to the ground. 

“Hold him down!” barked the Greatjon, and several more soldiers came and bound the struggling Kingslayer’s hands behind his back with rope. 

Jon sagged wearily, leaning heavily against his sword as he looked around the battlefield. The fighting was slowing down, with the Northern army seemingly victorious as Jon saw the surviving Lannister soldiers either being captured or fleeing into the woods. 

Ghost trotted up beside Jon, his white fur almost invisible underneath the caked blood and mud plastered to his body. Jon was grateful that his wolf had survived, and he searched the field of dead for his brother. He spotted him, still riding his horse up the hill where they had left Mother. 

“Follow me,” ordered Jon to the Greatjon, and Lord Umber kicked the Kingslayer forward while Jon led the way, accompanied by a number of guards who were just as filthy as Jon .

* * *

Mere days after the Stark’s first victory over the Lannisters, a raven came from King’s Landing. Father had been executed outside the Sept of Baelor, for crimes nobody believed. Jon did not stay to listen for the entirety of the reading of the raven, having fled from the main tent to be alone.

Catelyn wanted to go after him, but instead she went out by herself elsewhere to find somewhere private to grieve. She kept her face impassive and her posture straight as she walked through the line of tents, barely acknowledging the soldiers who bowed and offered their condolences. Her composure finally broke when she was well within the nearby woods, and she leant against a tree trunk and began to weep for her fallen husband.

Catelyn paused, however when she heard the sound of steel striking wood, accompanied by grunting and yelling. She pushed herself off the tree and headed towards where she thought the source of the noise might be. Catelyn found it, made by Robb, who was hacking away at the trunk of an old oak tree with his sword. He did not seem to hear Catelyn coming, and as she got closer she could see that Robb was crying.

“Robb!” she called out, startled by her son’s aggression. Robb stopped smacking his sword and faced his mother, and Catelyn’s heart broke at the look of despair on his face. “You’ve ruined your sword!”

Robb looked down at his hand, before tossing his sword to the ground carelessly. He then closed the gap and dropped his face on Catelyn’s shoulder. It was difficult to wrap her arms around Robb because of the armour he wore, but she did not care right now. Her son needed her.

“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all,” vowed Robb, his voice cracking while he cried.

“They have Arya,” said Catelyn soothingly. “They have your sister. Once we get her back... we’ll kill them all.”

Robb was eventually comforted enough to return to his men, and Catelyn thought of finding Jon next. There was no need however, for he was already back at their tent. His face gave nothing away, pulled into its usual sombre look, and Catelyn would not have known that Jon had been grieving for his father were it not for his bloodshot eyes.

Catelyn’s worry for her second son only grew over the next few weeks, following the Northern Lords’ naming Robb as the King in the North and their continuing campaign against the Lannisters. Originally the Stark bannermen intended to name both Robb and Jon both Kings, but Jon had refused, stating that there should only be one King in the North.

Jon had always been the more quiet of Catelyn’s twins, preferring that Robb be the centre of attention while Jon worked behind the scenes or did his own thing. His face looked sad by nature, as though he bore the weight of the whole world upon his shoulders. Now, however, he almost never spoke, unless spoken to and he smiled even less. There was no gleam of happiness in his dark grey eyes, so much like his father’s, now they appeared dull and lifeless.

His mood had changed drastically as well. He was more prone to outbursts of anger, more impulsive and regularly ignoring his mother and brother’s pleas to be safe during battle, and would almost always return from battle with a new injury. It was not because he lacked in skill; in fact, it was widely known that Jon was the better swordsman between Robb and himself. No, Mother suspected that he was getting hurt more and more because he did not care for his own safety anymore. His ferocity in battle earned himself the nickname ‘the White Wolf,’ partly because of the white direwolf that followed his master into battle fearlessly, as well as his apparent ruthlessness.

“I cannot understand why he keeps doing this!” growled Robb one night in frustration. “He never listens to anyone anymore. He’s going to get himself killed!”

“He’s grieving Robb,” said Catelyn. “Everyone deals with it in their own way.”

“Jon’s way is going to end up with him joining Father,” seethed Robb.

“Let me speak to him,” said Catelyn, resting a hand on Robb’s arm to calm him. “I think he needs his mother, not his brother right now.”

Robb sighed, his anger dissipating to be replaced by sadness. With a nod of his head, Cat left their tent in search of Jon.

She found him sitting on a log and sharpening his sword. The sight took Cat’s breath away for a moment as it reminded her so much of Ned, who would often have been seen in the godswood of Winterfell doing the exact same thing with Ice, the Valyrian greatsword of House Stark. The memory was only strengthened further because Jon looked so much like Ned. Neither Ghost nor Silver were anywhere to be seen, and Cat guessed that they were off hunting with Grey Wind.

“Jon?” said Cat cautiously, taking a step closer to her son. She saw the way Jon’s shoulders tensed, and he turned his head sideways to stare at her.

“Mother,” greeted Jon in a flat tone.

Cat took in Jon’s face. He had dark circles under his eyes, making him appear far older than his twenty years. His dark, curly hair had grown down to his shoulders and had become matted and thick, while his beard had grown much longer than he usually kept it, looking unkempt and haggard. The scar over his eye, which had faded from an ugly red cut to a thin, pink line only added to his grim look, and it broke Catelyn’s heart to see him so broken.

“Your brother and I are worried about you,” said Cat, knowing that Jon preferred it when she spoke bluntly to him.

“I am well,” grunted Jon, and he turned away to resume sharpening his sword.

“Are you?” questioned Cat. When Jon did not answer, Cat reach forward and grabbed his arm, stopping him from running the whetstone down his blade. Jon’s head shot up and glared at her, a look that Cat unflinchingly returned. “You may scare the other lords with that look, but I am your mother,” hissed Cat.

Jon scowled and yanked his arm out of Cat’s grip before standing up from the log and turned to walk away.

“Tell me what is wrong?!” pleaded Cat.

“What is wrong?!” echoed Jon furiously, whipping around to face his mother again. “What is wrong is that my father was murdered, and nobody saw it fit to come and ask me how I was doing!”

“I tried to come to you but-” began Cat.

“You were too busy taking care of Robb, the new King in the North aye I know,” snapped Jon. “You didn’t have time to comfort your other son here. The son who has always lived in his twin brother’s shadow.”

Cat was left speechless for a moment. Was this what was plaguing Jon’s mind? Did he really think that she had been ignoring him in favour of Robb?

“Jon I-” tried Cat.

“I should have joined the Night’s Watch when I had the chance,” said Jon, and without waiting for Cat to respond, he marched away, leaving his mother alone in the woods with tears running down her eyes.

* * *

Jon remained cut-off from Robb and Mother over the next few months, refusing to join them for meals and only occasionally attending war council meetings. During those times he was either alone by himself, training or in the woods sharpening his sword. Occasionally he would spend time with Ghost and Silver, but they were always off by themselves exploring the forests of the Riverlands, and eventually the Westerlands when they crossed the borders.

He had a brief respite from his estrangement with his family when Lord Tyrion had Father’s bones delivered to them, along with the Stark greatsword Ice, and were told in the letter that came with Father’s remains that Tyrion had smuggled the sword out without his father’s knowledge as a gesture of goodwill. 

To both Jon and Robb’s surprise, Mother hired a Qohorik blacksmith and melted down Ice into two longswords for them, stating that the two Starks leading the war should both carry a piece of their father with them always. 

Robb was gifted the more elaborate sword, its crossguard ending with silver snarling direwolf heads and a ruby pommel, as a sign of Robb’s Tully heritage. He named it Wolf’s Honour for all to hear, earning loud cheers from his men when he drew the smoky, ripple-patterned blade from it’s sapphire encrusted blade.

Jon’s new Valyrian steel bastard sword had a far more simple design than Wolf’s Honour, with a simple black leather scabbard. The crossguard was made of steel and had a simple design, curling up slightly at the ends, while the hilt was wrapped in black leather. Besides the blade itself, the pommel was the most intricate part of the sword. It was a carved wolf’s head, half coloured white and the other half a shiny grey. The eye socket on the white half was encrusted with a garnet, while the silver grey side had a golden beryl. Jon realised that the pommel was made to represent his two wolves, and he thanked his mother dearly for the gift, reconciling with her as she embraced him tightly.

“What will you name your sword?” Mother had asked. 

Jon had looked thoughtful for a moment. Finally he said, “The words of our House are ‘Winter is Coming.’ Winter will bring the snow which bites the deadliest, and I mean to bring that to those who would harm us.” He looked down reverently at his new sword. “Snow Fang I shall name it.” 

When Robb was seriously wounded at the Crag, the seat of House Westerling who were the bannermen of the Lannisters months after his argument with Mother, it reminded Jon just how foolish he was acting by cutting his family off. Life was short, and it shouldn’t be spent holding grudges against family. 

He decided to visit his brother in a room given them by the Westerlings, and knocked on the door. He was greeted by a pretty young woman with a heart-shaped face and chestnut curls, and Jon is momentarily stunned with surprise. He recognized her as Jeyne Westerling, eldest daughter of Gawen and Sybell Westerling.

“I er... is King Robb here?” he asked. 

“He is my lord, but he is resting at the moment,” answered Lady Jeyne. 

“My apologies, I shall come back later then,” said Jon, and he turned to leave, but was stopped by Lady Jeyne’s voice. 

“You are King Robb’s twin brother, aren’t you?” Jon turned around. 

“How did you…?” Jon was positive that he had never met the woman before.

“You look like him,” said Jeyne.

“No I don’t,” retorted Jon, feeling slightly annoyed. Robb and Jon, despite having shared the same womb, looked nothing alike. Robb was shorter than Jon and stockier, and looked just like a Tully, while Jon was taller and leaner and had the Stark look. The only resemblance they shared was that their hair was curly, though Robb’s was cut much shorter than Jon’s, who had not had a cut since they rode off to war. 

“Physically, you do not. But your eyes, they both have the same sadness behind them,” commented Lady Jeyne. 

“War does that to men, my lady,” said Jon, and after a quick bow, he walked away, determined to reconcile with his brother at a later date. 

He did not get the chance however, for they learned that Theon Greyjoy had betrayed the Starks and captured Winterfell. Bran and Rickon were both reported to have been killed during the battle against the ironborn, and Jon’s days were spent grieving with Mother.

His mood only darkened further when he learned that Robb had slept with Lady Jeyne, and in an attempt to preserve her honour, married her in secret. Robb’s foolishness resulted in outrage amongst the Freys, and they withdrew their support and returned to the Twins. Jon himself grew wroth and confronted Robb about it. 

“You fucking idiot,” hissed Jon as soon as he pushed through Robb’s door. He was glad that Robb was alone in his room, because he did not want to have to ask Jeyne to leave. Excuse me?” said Robb, looking genuinely confused.

“You married that Westerling girl, the daughter of one of Tywin Lannister’s bannermen?” said Jon angrily.

Robb sighed, and Jon could see how weary he looked. “You don’t understand Jon. I dishonoured her, and I had to rectify that,” he said dejectedly.

“And losing the Freys while you were at it,” growled Jon. “We needed them to help fight the Lannisters!” 

“We have gained the support of the Westerlings,” argued Robb. 

Jon scoffed. “Their forces are not nearly as large as the Freys,” he said derisively. 

“What would you have done?!” demanded Robb, now getting angry himself. 

“Honoured the pact you made!” shouted Jon. “We may have won all of the battles but we’re losing the war! The Tyrells have allied with the Baratheons and Lannisters since Renly’s death, and we’re running out of allies!” 

“It was a moment of weakness Jon, please...” said Robb weakly, looking more tired than ever now, but Jon was not finished. 

“You’re not supposed to be weak! You’re the fucking King in the North!” snapped Jon.

“If you think I’m too weak to carry this burden, why don’t you take it!” bellowed Robb. “Go on! You’re only a few minutes younger than me, I’m sure our bannermen won’t mind!”

“I don’t want your fucking crown, I never wanted any of this!” shouted Jon. “I’d rather we go home and live the rest of our lives away from our enemies.”

“You would rather we give up and go back home than avenge our father and save Arya from the lions?” said Robb incredulously. 

“We don’t even know if Arya’s still alive,” said Jon. “For all we know she could have been killed and the Lannisters are lying to us in order to stop us from marching on King’s Landing and killing them all.

“More likely Arya managed to somehow escape, and Cersei is too scared to admit they lost her.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Robb. 

“This is Arya we’re talking about.” Jon sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then walked away from his brother towards the door. He stopped though and looked back at Robb. “Robb, you can’t make decisions based on your mistakes. I won’t see you die because of them.”

* * *

Jon had taken over the first war council meeting when they returned to Riverrun, as Robb had said he was feeling unwell and must remain confined to his bed chambers. Mother stood on his right, while Uncle Brynden Tully, or the Blackfish as he was known stood on his left.

“The loss of the Frey forces has created a large gap in our armies,” said Lady Maege Mormont. “We don’t have enough allies to fill that gap, and our own men have grown tired after fighting for so long.”

Maege’s words were met with a chorus of mumblings of agreement, and Jon frowned. _Robb’s the strategist, not me_ , he thought hopelessly.

“Do we know anyone who would commit to our cause?” asked Uncle Edmure.

“We can rule out Stannis Baratheon,” said Jon, pointing to the island of Dragonstone on the table map the lords had gathered around. “He would not give up the North to us even if we were willing to help him overthrow the Lannisters.”

“Bah! We don’t need anybody else. Wars have been won with less numbers,” declared the Greatjon, earning a round of agreements for himself.

“That may be true my lord, but I would feel more comfortable if he had a few thousand extra men to support us,” said Jon.

“What about the North? Our homes are being ransacked by the ironborn while we fight down here in the South for a king who doesn’t know what he’s doing,” growled Lord Rickard Karstark.

Behind Jon, Ghost growled silently, while Silver was more vocal with her displeasure towards Lord Rickard.

“I would watch how you speak of our king, Lord Karstark,” said Jon in a dangerously low voice. “Those are traitor’s words you speak.”

Lord Rickard glared at Jon with malice, but Jon did not waver his stare until the older man was the first to look away, then he returned to staring at the map.

“From the ravens we have received, the ironborn have launched attacks along all the coastal keeps and castles except for White Harbour,” continued Jon. “I would recommend sending a force back North to assist our homes, but I fear that we would only weaken our strength here.”

Nobody had anything to offer about that, until Mother cleared her throat and gained the attention of everyone gathered.

“We may not have to split our forces if we search for allies in the right places,” she declared.

“Where do you suggest we look for allies then?” asked Jon.

“Here,” she said, pointing to the Eastern lands below the Neck.

“The Vale?” said Jon in surprise. “I thought you said that your sister would not come to our aid?”

“I did, but she may be forced to if we coerce her the right way,” said Mother.

“How?” Jon could have sworn he saw Mother’s lips quirk up slightly.

“By uniting the Vale with the North, by way of marriage between the brother of the King in the North and the eldest daughter of House Arryn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter- Jon and Catelyn travel to the Eyrie, Jon meets and gets to know Sansa, and Robb makes a terrible mistake without the guidance of his mother and brother...

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the prologue, so later chapters will probably be much longer than this one.


End file.
